


Cuddle Bug

by HQ_Wingster



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alpha Kuroo Tetsurou, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Aromantic Kuroo Tetsurou, Asexual Relationship, Childhood Friends, Childhood Memories, Coming of Age, Fluff and Humor, Friendship, Gen, Growing Up Together, Hugs, Kozume Kenma & Kuroo Tetsurou Friendship, Omega Kozume Kenma, Omega Verse, One-Sided Attraction, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-18
Updated: 2017-07-18
Packaged: 2018-12-03 04:33:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11524644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HQ_Wingster/pseuds/HQ_Wingster
Summary: Kozume Kenma was a confirmed cuddle bug.Kuroo--he had good intentions and all, was the best friend Kenma could ever ask for--just didn’t notice it. At first. Now, the lanky male had reasons--excuses--as to why he didn’t notice sooner. Nobody could blame Kuroo since he was so young at the time when he and Kenma first shared a hug. But with a friendship that was reaching its thirty-fifth birthday, you would think that Kuroo would’ve realized something sooner.Aka, the awkwardness of growing up, falling in love, and finding peace with one's self.





	Cuddle Bug

**Author's Note:**

> I've written some strange things in my life, but I never thought I would write something like this. Brush your teeth, folks. You get the strangest ideas.
> 
>    
> Omegaverse summary:  
> -Doctors can tell if a child is an Alpha while in the womb since Alphas are /more likely/ to "show than tell".  
> -Children tend to not focus on dynamics when they're young. As social interactions become more important to them as they age, dynamics start to integrate more into their lives.  
> -Friendly bonding and scenting is crucial as a child grows up because it helps them socially-mature, and creating tight-knit friendships aren't so bad  
> -Mated-pairs start occurring while in high school and college. However, a majority of these pairs will break-up quickly because of conflicting interests, or the individuals in these pairs aren't yet ready for a serious relationship.  
> -And some people choose to remain unmated

Kozume Kenma was a confirmed cuddle bug.

Kuroo-- _ he had good intentions and all, was the best friend Kenma could ever ask for-- _ just didn’t notice it. At first. Now, the lanky male had reasons-- _ excuses-- _ as to why he didn’t notice sooner. Nobody could blame Kuroo since he was so young at the time when he and Kenma shared their first hug. But with a friendship that was reaching its thirty-fifth birthday, you would think that Kuroo would’ve realized something sooner. Sad to say, Kuroo didn’t recognize anything until he took a trip down memory lane.

 

Kuroo was around three-years-old when he first noticed Kenma. Probably younger when he  _ actually  _ caught a glimpse of the boy, but Kuroo was three when he got his first,  _ confirmed  _ sighting of the pudding-head-- _ Kenma hadn’t dyed his hair yet, so that was inaccurate. _

Thinking back to that fateful day, Kuroo vaguely remembered how or when the “first” encounter happened. However, Kuroo  _ did  _ remember taking a trip to his father’s study area. Climbing up the fuzzy stairs and waddling over the carpeted floor. A squishy diaper wrapped around his waist-- _ yes, and that was the latest fashion for toddlers back then-- _ and Kuroo stretched his toes as far as he could. Trying to reach for the door knob, just an inch or two beyond his reach.

The tiny toddler looked around. A stool? A cushion? Even better! Kuroo spotted a packet of gummy fruit on the floor. An empty packet of gummy fruit.  _ Darn _ . Kuroo needed to do better than this, but he eventually found something even better than  _ that.  _ A red bouncy ball that had rolled out from his toy room. Picking the toy up, Kuroo waddled back to his father’s study. Tossed the ball at the door and like magic, the door creaked open. Kuroo squeezed inside. Marveling at the rosy, wooden desk that occupied a clean quarter of his father’s study. Up on the surface, there were golden pens, flexible pencils, a mysterious calendar flipped downwards, and there was a bouncy seat right behind the desk.

Kuroo tried to climb onto the chair, but the seat circled. Round and round until the toddler got a good hold of his throne. First, the arms got up. Kuroo’s round belly was next, sliding up against the leathery skin of the office chair. Finally, the toddler’s fidgeting legs and feet kicked the bottom of the office chair. And then, Kuroo was king of the study area! Bow to his chubby demeanor! Kuroo could almost hear the crowd crying for him.

Nope, that was  _ real  _ crying. Kuroo turned the office chair around, kicking the wooden desk with his feet. Out the window and in the neighbor’s house, there was a mother. Cradled in her firm arms was a little baby, crying out for  _ something.  _ At the time, Kenma was too far away for Kuroo to see. Too small for the toddler to notice, but baby!Kenma wouldn’t stop crying. His mother grew desperate. Eventually, strolling over to Kuroo’s kingdom. Rang the doorbell. Kuroo’s papa answered the door.

Grown-up chatter eventually wormed its way up to Kuroo’s ears. Kenma’s crying stabbed Kuroo’s ears first. The toddler slid off of his father’s office chair and climbed downstairs. Eventually making his way to the front door and hugging his papa’s legs while Mrs. Kozume swaddled Kenma with his favorite blanket.

Kuroo couldn’t stop laughing. When Mrs. Kozume rearranged the fleece, she exposed the knitted-hat donned on top of Kenma’s head.  _ Dumpling head! _

“Oh, Tetsurou.” Papa reached down and ruffled Kuroo’s hair. “When you were little, you had a hat just like that.”

Kuroo shook his head. Papa nodded his. Mrs. Kozume stared at them both, watching a parent and child interact so comfortably with each other. Eventually, Kenma stopped crying and noticed Kuroo for the first time.

“See! The baby stopped crying.” Kuroo gave Mrs. Kozume a toothy smile. A fang covering a sliver of his bottom lip. Mrs. Kozume thanked Kuroo, and then thanked Kuroo’s papa.

“How old is the little fella?” Papa asked.

“Kenma’s two-years-old.”

Papa cooed at little Kenma. Reaching his finger out for Kenma to touch, and the boy clumsily held onto his finger. “He’s so small. I thought he was a year old, at most!”

Mrs. Kozume shrugged. “He’s always been small, I guess. I’m not used to holding him like this,” she admitted.

Papa blinked. It was one of those long-drawn blinks that tried to mask confusion. “I’m sorry?”

“It’s my first time seeing him.”

That comment came out easier than expected. Papa soon understood what Mrs. Kozume meant. Kuroo didn’t. How could this be Mrs. Kozume’s first time? Didn’t she see Kenma when the cranes came to her window and delivered the boy in a fleece blanket?

Kuroo tugged his papa’s shirt. “I don’t get it.”

Papa scooped Kuroo into his arms. Rubbing his nose against his son’s before holding Kuroo closely against his chest. “You will when you’re older.”

Kuroo pouted while his papa offered Mrs. Kozume some advice. Like how to hold Kenma properly and safely, and how to calm him down if he cries again. Mrs. Kozume was so thankful, pleased that she found someone that could help her.

“I’m sure your spouse can help out too, so don’t be afraid to work together,” Papa suggested.

“He had to work overtime, so I’m returning the favor.” Mrs. Kozume bit as much as she could chew before retreating from the front porch. Prepared to go back home, but Kenma waved his tiny arms in protest. LIttle hands reaching out to Kuroo and the boy’s papa. Papa came close, letting Kenma hold his finger again. Kenma pushed the finger away, grabbing onto the hem of Kuroo’s shirt instead.

Kuroo turned his head, raised an eyebrow. A spit-bubble erupted from the corner of Kenma’s mouth. The little boy reached out to Kuroo, curling his hand around Kuroo’s finger when the latter extended it. Eventually, the only thing that satisfied baby Kenma was a hug from Kuroo, and the toddler puffed out his cheeks when Mrs. Kozume handed him her son. Both she and Papa spoke gently and helped Kuroo. Showing him how to hold Kenma properly, and Kenma was sure _tiny_ in Kuroo’s little arms. It _almost_ didn’t feel right calling Kenma a toddler. This little, squirming boy was barely strong enough to walk, let alone be a toddler.

But when Kenma began to cry again-- _ Kenma never confirmed why he cried, even to this day-- _ Kuroo was there to hold Kenma close, rocking him back and forth until the baby threw up an orange, gooey mess. Splattering the top half of Kuroo’s favorite t-shirt.

That was gross.

(“Tetsurou, I was a child when that happened.”

“Yeah, and it was still gross. You still owe me  _ $7.99  _ for a new shirt.”)

 

At the tender age of five, Kuroo realized how much Kenma’s friendship meant to him.

It was just another day at the daycare center. Kuroo was almost at the point of no-return. His papa and father had finally decided that Kuroo was old enough to go to a real school, and there was a new primary school that had opened. About a year ago in the neighborhood. Of course, Kuroo didn’t want to go. He had spent the last two years at the daycare center, playing with the other kids and sharing valuable bonding-time with everyone. Teachers, included. To say goodbye to a part that helped him grow up felt... _ weird.  _ What if the kids at the new school didn’t like him? What if they made fun of him?

Kuroo became self-conscious. Fussing for ten minutes at a time, locked in the daycare restroom. Messing with his hair and trying to smooth it out. It felt like he was erasing a part of himself, but what if the kids at the new school didn’t like the “old” Kuroo Tetsurou? Did sporting this hairstyle make him look young? Kuroo was five and since he was going to primary school, he needed to  _ at least _ look the part. Look older, more defined than the kids at the daycare. But every time Kuroo ran his head under the running faucet, his unruly hair stuck up like a curse. No, Kuroo didn’t cry. Big kids didn’t cry, so Kuroo couldn’t. He slapped his cheeks with his hands and left the restroom. Having to answer awkward questions from the grown-ups that hovered right outside the door.

“Are you sick?”  _ No. _

“Did you have an accident?”  _ No! _

“Why is your hair wet?”  _ It wants to. _

Before the grown-ups could interrogate him some more, it was time for recess. Perked up, Kuroo ran under a grown-ups’ legs-- _ had to crouch down to accomplish that-- _ and sprinted with the other daycare kids to the great outdoors. To the crunchy leaves outside, to the mud piles where kids “baked” brownies, and to the jungle gym where kids pretended to be pirates and ninjas. Kuroo ran past all of that. Stumbling over tree roots while some boys sculpted mud pies. Dodging legs and hands when the younger girls tried poked Kuroo with sticks, while hanging upside down on the jungle gym.

Kuroo kept running.

He didn’t know who or what he was running from. But if people were going to take him seriously in primary school, he had to let go of these childish things. Big kids didn’t play in mud or pretended to be pirates and ninjas. Big kids... _ big kids _ ...Big kids didn’t do any of that. They said “please” and “thank you”, they didn’t need nap-time, they didn’t play pretend, and they...Kuroo ran out of ideas when he stopped running. His stamina could only take him so far before the boy sat under a tree. Panting, looking out across the playground. Watching a bunch of  _ babies  _ frolicking around. But Kuroo, himself, was also a  _ baby. _

He wanted to make mud cakes and show them to the grown-ups. He wanted to be a pirate, warding off ninjas with a stick. Kuroo didn’t want to grow up, but his father and papa said he was ready to move on. Kuroo didn’t want to, but every kid had to grow up.

Kuroo wished that his childhood could stay a little longer.

“Tetsurou!” Jogging slowly was Kenma. During the past two years, the frail boy had improved  _ significantly  _ since Kuroo first saw him _.  _ Still small, but able to talk and run a little. Kenma was four. He was still small enough to be a kid, almost big enough to be a big kid. Kuroo hid his worries with a usual grin, something that he had learned from his papa whenever father came home late from work.

“Hiya, Kenma!” Kuroo waved his hands.

Kenma wheezed and stumbled over a pair of roots. He fell to the ground, but he didn’t cry. His hands and knees were dirty, but Kenma didn’t mind. The little boy crawled over and sat next to his friend-- _ childhood neighbor.  _ Kenma had one of those eyes that could  _ see  _ everything. All the problems that someone didn’t want to show, all the thoughts that someone tried to erase. Kuroo was an open book for Kenma, a lot easier to read than a picture book in the classroom. All Kenma had to do was tilt his head, glance over at his friend, and he knew what bothered Kuroo. No matter how much the latter tried to hide it.

“Do you have a tummyache?”

Kuroo shook his head. A little sigh nested against his chest.

“Oh, okay.” Kenma stared down at his shoes, poking at the laces while Kuroo kept his breathing even. He was five. Kenma was four. Not too long from now, Kenma won’t see him anymore. Not too long from now, Kuroo would have to make new friends. Start over again. He snapped a twig between his fingers.

Kenma sniffed, smelling a familiar spicy  _ but  _ sweet hint of licorice. The scent wafted off of Kuroo, and he didn’t notice it until Kenma leaned in close. Asking if Kuroo was okay. Kuroo stuttered. Of course, he was okay! Why would Kenma think that?

Kenma narrowed his eyes. “Your Alpha is showing. That’s all.”

The tips of Kuroo’s ear burned a bright scarlet. “What does that mean?!”

Kenma pinched his nose. “Your scent is everywhere.” Kenma sniffed his own clothes. Stuck out his tongue in conclusion. “I like licorice, but this is too much.”

“I’m sorry.” Kuroo scratched his neck, feeling his scent-glands bulge out. The little Alpha didn’t know how to “turn-off” his scenting. It wasn’t like there was a switch on his back that stopped the pheromone release, and Kuroo grew more self-conscious as a result. How could he be a big kid if he couldn't control himself? In exchange, the scenting got heavier. Until Kenma couldn’t take it anymore, and his voice sounded funny because his nose was pinched for safety.

“I heard from my Dad that you’re going to school soon.”

_ “I don’t think I can.” _ Kuroo wasn’t crying. He told himself, over and over again, that big kids didn’t cry. So if he cried, that meant he wasn’t a big kid. That meant he let his father and papa down. After they had signed him up for primary school and everything. Kuroo tried so hard, but fat tears slid down his cheeks and fell onto his hands. Intensifying his natural scent.

Kenma rubbed Kuroo’s elbows with his own. “Why not?”

Kuroo sniffed.  _ “I’m not a big kid.” _

Kenma raised an eyebrow. Clearly, Kuroo had a skewed image of what a “big kid” was, because the youth was  _ indeed  _ a big kid. The tallest kid at the daycare center-- _ being an Alpha may’ve boosted his height a little bit.  _ But all in all, Kuroo had no reason to worry, and that just made Kenma more concerned. His happy friend and neighbor was crying, and Kenma didn’t know what to do. He needed to find a grown-up, but he didn’t want to leave Kuroo alone. So, Kenma held onto Kuroo’s hand and helped him walk. Providing a shoulder for Kuroo to lean on while he cried all his tears away. Kenma shushed quietly into Kuroo’s ear. Hugging his friend around the middle while Kuroo rested his chin on top of Kenma’s head.

“You’re heavy.”

_ “Am not.” _

“Are too.”

Kuroo mumbled something, but at least he stopped crying. The Alpha’s scent was so thick that everyone on the playground turned to look at him and Kenma when they came back. Grown-ups swarmed around them, and Kenma did his best. Trying to answer their questions while also hugging his best friend. Eventually, some grown-ups called Kuroo’s parents. Asking them if they could put Kuroo on suppressants. They got the a-okay, and Kuroo was given a few gummy tablets with a big glass of water during snack time.

It took about five minutes for the tablets to kick in, and Kuroo’s licorice-scent faded away. Some of the little Alphas in the daycare were curious. Before nap-time, they swarmed Kuroo before the grown-ups reminded everybody that nap-time was about to start. And for about an hour and a half, Kuroo had his alone-time. Curled under a fluffy blanket while the gummy tablets suppressed his scent. He didn’t sleep. Instead, he scooted over to Kenma and asked the boy if he was awake.

“Now I am.” Kenma’s eyelashes fluttered when he woke up.

“Can I have a hug?” Kuroo whispered back.

Kenma wrapped his arms around his pal and went back to sleep. If Kuroo didn’t want to talk about his worries, Kenma didn’t need to question him about it. Just a hug and reassurance was all Kuroo needed before the boy started smiling like he used to. Because during that silent exchange of hugs, Kuroo realized that being a big kid wasn’t so bad. He didn’t have to give-up on his childhood. Because he was a big kid, he could appreciate the little things more. Like Kenma’s squishy hugs! Kuroo made sure that Kenma was safe and warm during nap-time, holding his friend close before falling asleep on his own.

(“We were kind of cute back then, Kenma.”

“Cute? You always worried about the most  _ trivial  _ things.”

“Your hugs aren’t trivial to me~”)

 

Kuroo was nine when he and Kenma shared an awkward moment together.

Well, there were a lot of awkward moments that didn’t make the cut. Like that one time where Kuroo peed his pants when Kenma recited a joke. It wasn’t funny, but the way Kenma said it got to Kuroo. And before he knew it, he was laugh-telling Kenma to get him a new pair of pants. And during that sleepover, Kuroo wore one of Kenma’s “pajammie” pants while his real pants were downstairs in the washer. There was another time where Kenma was making a fleece-nest for himself, and the youth accidentally rolled himself into a blanket-taquito. Inching along like a worm until his dad found him, and Kuroo hollered in laughter. Wrestling with Kenma and swinging the boy around until they both got dizzy and knocked each other out when they collapsed.

But, those moments were more funny than awkward.

When Kuroo was nine, Kenma came over and they watched a movie in the living room. It was Kenma’s turn to pick-out out something, so he chose  _ “My Dynamic and Me”.  _ It was a  _ strange,  _ educational movie about growing-up. Something that Kuroo’s parents picked out so that their son could learn a thing or two about his developing body. No matter how cartoonish the movie was, Kuroo couldn’t watch it without cringing. He could only imagine how Kenma was feeling, and Kenma barely moved during the movie. Probably moved once, just to scratch his foot before his finger retreated. Eyes not leaving the television screen when  _ diagrams  _ popped up. And labels!

When the narrator began to talk about puberty with cartoonish doodles for references, Kuroo cleared his throat loudly. Kenma slid off the couch and sat on the floor. Knees tucked against his chest. Kuroo nudged Kenma with his foot.

“You okay, buddy?”

“I think so?”

Silence fell over them. Only the narration could save them now, and the narrator was doing a horrible job with that. Kuroo reached over and grabbed the movie’s CD case. His finger ran down the summary, and Kuroo checked the rating. PG.  _ Yeah, right!  _ There was only so much that a puberty movie could show before crossing the PG-13 line, and the  _ “My Dynamic and Me”  _ took its chances. Kuroo tossed the CD case behind him.

“Do you want to watch something else?”

Kenma didn’t reply back, completely engrossed with the hormonal shifts that occurred between Alphas and Omegas. Kuroo shifted his weight, uncomfortably. His body felt weird, like it was burning. His skin felt tight, and Kuroo was sweating more than usual. How was that possible? The air conditioner was blasting, and he was in his shorts and a tank-top. Maybe someone left a window up. But when Kuroo got up to check, he noticed something  _ very  _ odd about his crotch.

Kuroo glanced up at Kenma. The boy was watching the movie, hadn’t noticed anything strange about his friend yet. Kuroo blew a sigh. He was getting better at controlling his pheromones, dialing back his scent to the faintest line in  _ Kuroo Tetsurou’s Licorice Brand. _

Now, he had to deal with his  _ problem.  _ Kuroo grabbed the remote control from the other side of the couch, aimed carefully, and whacked his  _ problem _ to submission. One strike was all it took before the sucker flopped back to normal, and the boy hid his throbbing pain well. Gritted his teeth until the movie ended, so that Kenma could go home.

_ “Thanks for coming over,”  _ Kuroo said, oblivious to how high-pitched his voice was.

Kenma stared at him. Kuroo smiled back before shoving a pillow over his lap. His  _ problem  _ rose back from the dead.

“Tetsurou, are you…” Kenma’s voice trailed off. Silence fell over them, and there wasn’t any cringy narration to hide behind. Kuroo nodded, sparing Kenma the embarrassment of saying  _ it.  _ Kenma handled the situation better than most kids at school. If someone knew that their Alpha classmate was in a rut, calamity wasn’t too far away. Luckily for Kuroo, Kenma left the living room and grabbed the phone. First, calling his dad to tell him the news before calling Kuroo’s parents. Kenma listened very carefully, and he gave brief updates on how Kuroo was doing.

“Where is he?”  _ On the couch. _

“How is he doing?”  _ He has a pillow on his lap. _

“You should head home, Kenma.”  _ Okay. _

When the call ended, Kenma sat quietly next to Kuroo. The Alpha refused to look at his friend, afraid that something might happen between them. Kuroo had heard the stories. Sometimes during ruts, Alphas would lose control and do horrible deeds. That wasn’t Kuroo, but he couldn’t ignore the  _ feeling  _ coiled deep inside of him. There was a  _ want,  _ a  _ need  _ to be with someone. Kuroo grabbed the remote control again.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Kenma.”

“I hope you feel better soon.” Kenma left as quickly as he came. Kuroo waddled to the front door to make sure that Kenma went home safely. And when Kenma retreated into his own home, Kuroo slid onto the wooden floor. A bulging mess threatened to escape from his shorts.  _ Great.  _ Breathing evenly, Kuroo stood up and powered through the frenzy of hormones that twisted his guts. He called his parents, asking them what he should do.

“This rut is going to stay for awhile,” Kuroo said, pulling the elastic band of his shorts. Inspecting the chaos down below. “Is there a way I can make it  _ calmer?” _

Kuroo listened carefully to his father. Since this was Kuroo’s first rut, having a cold compress nearby should calm his body. Not to mention, it was best to shower so that the  _ rut-stench  _ could get off of him. Lastly, just stay in the house and if he wanted to talk to Kenma, grab a phone and call.

Not too bad. Kuroo could do this.

He left a water bottle in the freezer while he took a shower. Scrubbing his body with a loofah sponge. He borrowed some of his papa’s Omega body wash, scrubby the fruity-goodness over himself so that he smelled like apples and strawberries. Meanwhile, Kuroo’s  _ situation  _ wasn’t getting better-- _ there’s only so many “things” you could say to refer to a body part before things get weird.  _ The  _ situation  _ was like an Alpha flag, ready to stake its claim. It was probably a bad idea to keep whacking it down, but Kuroo had to show who was boss. _ Him, _ and not the tiny brain down south.

By the time Kuroo got dressed, the frozen water bottle was ready. Kuroo clung to it when he got up to his room, feeling the ice break apart under his touch. Kuroo threw himself onto his bed, burying himself under the sheets. He scratched himself, trying to feel something else besides the gnawing  _ want  _ in the pit of his stomach.

By the time his parents came home, Kuroo was afraid to go downstairs. His father came up instead, opening the door slowly. Catching sight of his son huddled under his blankets. Curled in a sweaty, musky ball. Kuroo’s bed was a swirling cocktail of pheromones. Ranging from lust to innocence and confusion.

“Tetsurou?” Father sat on the edge of the bed. When his son didn’t reply back, the older Alpha petted his son’s hair. Telling his boy stories of his own ruts, especially his first one. This  _ embarrassment  _ deep inside was normal, and it was all part of growing-up. Omegas had to go through heats, arguably a lot worse than ruts. And even though this stage of growing-up felt weird, there were plenty of kids in the world who had to go through the same thing as well. No one was the first at anything, especially with ruts.

Kuroo poked his head out from under his sheets. “Will I be okay tomorrow?”

Father furrowed his brows. “Probably not. I’ll call the school and let them know your absence. Make sure that you get some rest.” Kuroo’s father leaned down and kissed his forehead. “If you feel any urges--”

_ “Gross.” _

“Son, there are some things that Humans can’t control, but you’re being a champ right now. You can get through this.”

That was perhaps the strangest conversation Kuroo ever had with his father, and he was glad that  _ the talk  _ didn’t happen during the next rut. And the one after that. And the subsequent ruts that occurred at the end of primary school and off to middle school. Kuroo got better at hiding his  _ situation.  _ He didn’t talk about it with his classmates, despite a lot of Alphas doing so. Sometimes, when Kuroo passed by a group, he would hear snippets of how they got through their own ruts. Imagining crushes or even friends by their hips when things got desperate.

That made Kuroo’s skin crawl. He couldn’t say that it was gross, because he was also an Alpha. However, those kind of conversations didn’t belong in a crowded cafeteria, and Kuroo nearly lost his appetite as he went to the rooftop to eat lunch with Kenma.

Now thirteen, both boys were beginning to the understand the teenage-craze that swept the nation. Teenagers wanting to hook-up or test out the waters of a relationship before the backlash of drama became a sensation throughout the school year. Kuroo had been approached by students before, some asking if Kuroo could be their Alpha. Or, if Kuroo could be their first for  _ some  _ things. The nerve and bravery that motivated people to say those things took Kuroo off-guard, but his answer was always the same.

_ “I’m not ready for a relationship.” _

Kuroo tore into his sandwich, ripping off a chunk with his teeth before swallowing the whole thing. Kenma ate his bento box slowly. Without warning, Kenma packed his meal away and shuffled to the door. Kuroo watched his friend from the corner of his eye, chewing slowly before an unfamiliar scent wafted by his nose. Smelled like cinnamon and when Kuroo followed the scent-trail with his nose, he ended up looking at the same door that Kenma went through.

A second stretched on for hours before Kuroo rushed to his feet. Sprinted down the trail of stairs that went on for miles. Stumbled into a hallway, nose high in the air. Tried to pinpoint Kenma’s scent-trail. People were coming back from lunch, effectively hiding Kenma’s frail scent. Kuroo pushed past people, telling them that there was an emergency. People continued to ram into him, shouting that Kuroo was going against the flow of traffic. That he needed to wait his turn. Kuroo bared his teeth, his canines sharpened against the sun. Climbing through the mob of people, Kuroo picked up on Kenma’s scent and ran.

Every step echoed in the back of his mind. What if someone reached Kenma before him? What if there was an Alpha, and they planned to stake their claim? Kuroo had only one answer for that Alpha.  _ A fist to the face. _

Kenma’s scent-trail led Kuroo to an Omega restroom. He couldn’t go inside, but he saw someone’s shoes through the crack under the door. Kenma’s shoes. Kenma was curled on the floor, on the other side. Kuroo couldn’t go in, but he pressed his hand against the door.

He could only imagine what a heat must’ve felt like before a flurry of pheromones assaulted his senses.

Dulling Kuroo’s thought-process, influencing him to do something that would  _ ruin  _ their friendship forever. But, Kuroo remained faithful. Kept his distance, but showed that he was nearby. So that Kenma wasn’t alone while the rest of the world revolved around rules and selfish-desires. Kuroo remained strong, but his defenses were cracking.

“You don’t have to be here with me,” Kenma said. Knocking his hand on the door to grab Kuroo’s attention.

“Leave a friend behind to deal with this on his own? I can’t do that.”

“If you don’t, I--” Kenma couldn’t finish his sentence. His cinnamon-scent burned Kuroo’s nose until he couldn’t smell anything else. This was dangerous for both of them. Kenma had enough sense to tell Kuroo leave, but Kuroo’s stubborn pride kept him grounded. Even if, even if it hurt Kenma in return.

“No matter what happens,” Kuroo began, leaning down and sitting on his side of the door. “I don’t want you to go through this alone. People will say stuff, people might say hurtful things, but don’t listen to a single word. Because when we don’t understand ourselves, we have somebody that can help us understand.”

Kenma sniffled. The tears made Kenma’s scent mellower. Mellow enough for Kuroo to regain feeling in his body. And when Kenma finally opened the restroom door, disheveled with his knees wobbling, Kuroo helped his friend to the nurse’s office. Where Kenma’s dad picked him up an hour later, and Kuroo went back to class. Smelling like he was with an Omega while they were in heat,  _ which was the truth.  _ There was a door between him and Kenma, and the two got through the experience by talking to each other. Sharing feelings, hopes, and fears.

People said things, thought things. They were just words to Kuroo, and he ignored them.

On the way home, he went to a general store and picked up some water bottles, fluffy blankets, a miniature apple pie, and some squeaky toys for Kenma to laugh at. And, Kuroo wasted twenty bucks on a video game that Kenma had his eye on. With all the goodies, Kuroo trooped off to the Kozume residence, and Mr. Kozume was almost taken back by all the supplies Kuroo provided.

“You’re such a good friend to my Kenma,” Mr. Kozume said, gathering all the goodies into his arms. Kuroo scratched his head, a polite smile tugging his lips.

(“When you do stuff like that, parents automatically assume that you’re the perfect spouse for their child.”

“I don’t know what you mean, Kenma.”)

 

“Haven’t you heard of Kozume Kenma?”

_ “The cuddler? He’s so nice!” _

**“Cuddler? This is high school.”**

_ “Give Kozume a chance. After a tough day, it’s nice to get a hug.” _

Word spread quickly in Nekoma High. Sometimes, there was a line of people waiting outside Kenma’s classroom, potential clients waiting to get a hug from the Omega. At first, Kenma didn’t know why the “business” was so popular. It all started when he found a girl who recently broke up. Not wanting her mood to have a negative impact on her friends, Kenma offered to hug her. The girl was uncomfortable with it at first, unsure as to what Kenma’s motive was. But when she hugged Kenma back and felt better inside, she kept requesting for more hugs until the “business” sort of spiraled from there.

Now in his second year, Kenma carried a calendar with him at all times. Jotting down names and finding a time slot so that people can get their hugs. High schoolers were mysterious creatures. Sort of like cats. They love you when they love you. They don’t when they don’t. Well, cats were a lot easier to handle because they weren’t as moody as teenagers. Kenma tried to keep the “business” professional. He made it very clear that he had no romantic-feelings towards any of his clients, and that the hugs are completely consensual. Eventually, Kenma had to carry a business card that marked out all the guidelines, just so that his “business” wouldn’t get canned by the teachers and faculty staff.

Honestly, if people wanted hugs this badly, more people should’ve made these “businesses” around school. However, Kenma didn’t seem to mind. He kind of liked having hug buddies. It made him feel a little more social, and it got easier to make friends. Kenma began to open up a little more, but he kept his feelings guarded. Not messing around when he started carrying Alpha-repellent after a former-client got too needy. It didn’t affect Kenma’s nose so when he sprayed it at Kuroo for a test run-- _ with Kuroo’s consent, of course-- _ Kuroo cursed for a good thirty seconds before jamming orange peels up his nose. Trying to block the  _ horrid  _ stench of the Alpha-repellent. In Kuroo’s words, the smell was like  _ “seeing your family die before your eyes, and you had to personally preserve them with pickle juice.”  _ Whatever that meant, but the description sounded awful.

Kenma could count on one hand the amount of times he had to use the Alpha-repellent. Only once, and that was for a test-run with Kuroo. The Alpha never forgave him.  _ Just kidding.  _ Kuroo learned to forgive Kenma. All Kenma had to do was have a free day. No hug-clients. Just him and Kuroo, spending their lunch hour on the rooftop of Nekoma High. Hugging each other.

Hugs were their common ground, and they both enjoyed them.

Kuroo had a warm, tight hug. His arms made you feel secure, like everything was going to be okay. Sometimes, he rested his chin on top of Kenma’s head. Sometimes, he’d fall asleep and drool onto his pal’s shoulder, and Kenma would hiss and bat Kuroo’s arms off of him. And sometimes, Kuroo would hold Kenma close and rock the latter back and forth. Humming a nice lullaby while Kenma closed his eyes for a good nap. It was embarrassing, but Kuroo teased that he used to do this all the time when Kenma was little.

“No, you didn’t.”

“Bet. Call your Dad and look at the picture album. He took a picture of me holding you when you were  _ teeny-weeny.” _

“Don’t call me that.”

And Kuroo would laugh and poke at Kenma’s pouting cheeks before they switched, and Kuroo got to enjoy his bento box while Kenma wrapped his arms around Kuroo’s neck.  _ Loosely. _

Sometimes, Kenma would have a gameboy in his hands, playing while he hugged Kuroo and kept the Alpha’s neck warm. Sometimes, Kenma would rest his face onto Kuroo’s shoulder, mumbling how he needed help before a pop quiz. Kuroo would whip out his reading glasses and quiz Kenma on the stuff he should know, on what he needed to know, and bonus to impress the teach. Sometimes when Kuroo was occupied with his food, Kenma would trace his finger over the former’s neck. Trace where Kuroo’s scent-glands were. Sometimes rubbing them so that Kuroo could smell like licorice.

And sometimes, Kenma scented Kuroo with his own scent. Just an innocent gesture, a  _ friendly  _ gesture between good friends. With cinnamon at his neck, Kuroo would rub his own scent onto Kenma’s wrists before lunch ended. Both would go their separate ways until the afternoon, where they could walk home together and maybe play some video games.

But today, on this Free Friday, Kenma wanted to do something special. When Kuroo came up to the rooftop with lunch, Kenma was already at the usual spot. Arms stretched out, ready to hug. Kuroo didn’t mind. He got to eat lunch comfortably for once, and he enjoyed hugging Kenma.

“I won’t be able to walk you home today,” he said, emphasizing with his chopsticks. “Me and Yaku have a report to finish. Probably will be finished at around five.” Kuroo sighed before chomping down on a cucumber.

“Are you and Yaku close?”

“As close as two classmates could get.” Kuroo shrugged. “Yaku’s a pretty cool Beta. He knows a lot of stuff. Very passionate about the law.” Kuroo imitated a few catch-phrases that Yaku would say on a daily-basis, and they tugged a smile onto Kenma’s face. The Omega continued his embrace.

“Yesterday, a client asked me if I had a mate yet.”

Kuroo struggled on a tomato slice.

“I think they were asking me to be theirs, but I shook my head. Have to keep the hugging business professional, you know.”

Kuroo nodded, trying to get his tomato slice down. He managed, got tears in his eyes as a result. “I think it’s great that you’re keeping the business professional. No strings attached, no hurt feelings. Just plenty of hugs and good feelings to share. I think that’s something our generation needs the most right now.” Kuroo rolled a tiny tomato around with his chopstick.

Kenma tightened his hug just a bit. “I’m thinking about putting this business on hold for awhile.”

“Break?”

“You could say that.”

“You deserve it, Kenma. You’re like a hero, a hugging hero!” Kuroo tapped Kenma’s knee, signaling that he was ready to hug Kenma back.

Kenma shook his head. “Today’s your day. I just want to hug you.”

“I could get used to this,” Kuroo whispered. Slowly, the Alpha leaned back. Kenma got into a comfortable position and messed with Kuroo’s unruly hair while the Alpha took a nice nap before the lunch period was over.

“Hey, Kuroo?”

“What is it,  _ Kozume?”  _ Kuroo opened one of his eyes just to wink.

“Have you ever thought about having a mate?”

“M-Marriage?” Kuroo opened both of his eyes

“Not exactly like that, but some of the feelings could be there.” Kenma steadied his breathing. “Have you thought about it?”

Instead of a flat-out “No”, Kenma got a: “ _ Not particularly.” _

“Busy with school?” Was that the sound of Kenma’s heartbeat? A hopeful rhythm?

“I don’t think there’s a need,” Kuroo said, truthfully. “It’s probably really cool to find a mate that’s special to you, but I don’t think I feel the same way, like how they feel about me.”

Kenma kept messing with Kuroo’s hair. Albeit, it was slower. He tried to process what he just learned about his friend, but Kenma needed more clarity. Just a little more before he could say what he wanted to say. “I’m sure your future-mate will understand how you feel.”

Kuroo laughed, but it was dry and colorless. As if he needed a miracle to believe in Kenma’s words. “If there’s pleasure without love, why can’t there be love without physical-pleasure?” Kuroo scratched the back of his head. “What if my future-mate wants those pleasures? I wouldn’t know what to do, and they’ll misunderstood. Think that I don’t love them when I really do. Just not that way. But I’ll do what I can to fulfill those pleasures, but I won’t feel the same way, like how they feel.”

Kenma’s hands dropped to his side. It took a moment for him to process the new information, and Kenma felt numb inside. It felt like his heart was growing hopeful, but he still wasn’t sure. _ “I think I understand now.” _

“Sorry if I made you uncomfortable.” Kuroo closed his eyes.

“I think that’s neat, Kuroo.” Kenma’s smile reached his voice, giving it an airy-quality. “I think that’s a really nice way to show your love to someone. Not just through the highs of marriage, or heats, or even ruts. But spending quality-time with someone and sharing affections with each other, and still being each other’s best friends.”

“Thanks for understanding, Kenma.”

(“I think that was the turning point where we became more honest with each other.”

“I feel like you were trying to tell me something.”)

 

When Kenma was in college, he decided to be a sugar-bonder. He had a bachelor’s degree that he was working towards, and there was a future-career tucked behind his ear for kicks. But when finances and tuition became an uphill battle, Kenma surfed on the campus-internet and decided to be a sugar-bonder.

The process wasn’t bad. You sign up to a website, spruce a blank canvas with your interests and what you like to do, and then wait for a request to pop in the inbox. To be honest, Kenma could’ve gotten a job at Starbucks with Kuroo and Yaku-- _ who also had ties with an underground, law-enforcement team, but that’s for another story _ .

But deep down in Kenma’s rigid heart, he knew he could amount to something  _ more. _

Ever since high school ended, so did Kenma’s hugging business. On paper, his business was very similar to what a sugar-bonder usually did on a daily-basis. Share affections and bonding-time with individuals.  _ Mated or unmated. _

Everyone deserves to feel loved.

Kenma wasn’t sure where that way of thinking stemmed from, but it may’ve had something to do with his family life while growing-up. Kenma didn’t want to say names or point at anybody but sometimes, it felt like he was living in a life that didn’t know what love was. Perhaps, he was discovering what love meant to him by sharing these affections with different types of people.

It was really fun meeting new people during the past four years. Kenma couldn’t leave the campus, but a few of his sugar-bondees would come visit during the weekends. Share quality-time with Kenma at restaurants, at movie theatres, at the park, at the local aquarium, and whatnot. Showering the Omega with gifts, school supplies, and help out with the groceries. It was pretty nice, and Kenma enjoyed it. Even after he graduated with his bachelor's degree, Kenma continued being a sugar-bonder. Did some online schooling, scrolled around to see how he could gain experience for his dream job. His dream job? Well, there was a reason why it only came to him in dreams, but Kenma was up for the challenge.

Four years after graduation, Kenma heard from Kuroo again. It was late at night when Kenma stumbled into the car of his current sugar-bondee. Kenma forgot where he was. Somewhere in Europe, probably Italy? Kenma probably sounded arrogant, but a lot of things had happened in four years. _ For him and for Kuroo. _

While his sugar-bondee got into the car-- _ not before leaving a trail of kisses up and down an Alpha’s arm-- _ Kenma got onto his phone. Skimmed through a few emails. Some were advertisements from some games he owned. Some were from email addresses that Kenma didn’t recognize. One email came from Kuroo.

The Alpha had accomplished his dream. After four years of medical school, Kuroo was finally in the residency-stage. Camped out in the countryside with some other residency-students, following under the footsteps of a few pediatricians. Keeping the youth of Hasetsu healthy and well. In an aged-community where the youth were  _ literally  _ the future, Kuroo had his best interests in mind when he listed the town as one of his residency-choices.

Kenma wasn’t sure if he wanted to read the email, but it’d been a long time since he and the Alpha had kept in touch. And so, Kenma pushed aside his pride and clicked on Kuroo’s message. It was a rather lengthy email, so Kenma spared the details. Kuroo missed him, wanted to know how his pal was doing. What was it like, traveling around the world? Kuroo hoped to see some pictures, added a dash of emojis for comedic effect. But when Kuroo got serious, the email took a turn that Kenma didn’t expect.

Kuroo needed support. After a lot of thought and after years of recoiling from his own skin, Kuroo opted to be the first trans-dynamic individual in Japan.

Kenma didn’t stop reading.

Kuroo went into vivid detail of the surgery procedure, keeping the language simple-enough for Kenma to understand. However, the residency-student held his respect to the surgeons that were literally going to change his life, showering their research and many accomplishments with glowing words and fluid sentences. But in the end, Kuroo redirected the email back to Kenma. His life sort of started with Kenma, so he wanted his new life to begin the same way. Kuroo invited Kenma to come back to Japan after the surgery. Kuroo wanted to see his pal again.

When Kenma finished the email, the Omega really didn’t know what to think. Still trying to process the sudden news that Kuroo knocked into him. Did Kuroo really expect that he would come back, after all this time? Kuroo was more foolhardy than Kenma originally thought, but Kuroo was  _ his  _ fool and Kuroo was  _ his  _ friend. He didn’t know why Kuroo volunteered to be a guinea pig for an experimental surgery.

As far as anyone knew, altering your dynamic was dangerous. Never before been done. The consequences were barely scratched to the surface, and there was no way of knowing if the patient would be fine afterwards. Kenma could only imagine the  _ years  _ of hormonal-therapy that Kuroo would have to go through. He could only imagine how much of Kuroo would  _ change _ , but Kenma could also imagine how much of the old-Kuroo would be left behind.

Kuroo would still have the same husky laugh, and those wide grins that carried secrets on the other side. Kuroo’s hugs would still be tight and warm, enough to remind you that everything was going to be okay. Kuroo was still going to be Kuroo, and the residency-student was still the man that Kenma treasured with all his heart.

Kenma promised himself that when the surgery was over, he was going to give his pal a good hug.

(“You could’ve called more.”

“Sorry. When you’ve got a date with your textbook, there isn’t much time to chat.”)

 

There was one manila folder out when the surgery was over. The doctors updated the details inside and when Kuroo woke up, he reviewed over his medical record before giving the a-okay. He was told that things were going to be difficult, that his body will feel like a piece of itself is missing. He was given a calendar schedule of all the dates and times he had to attend for hormonal-therapy. Something for his body to stabilize on until it realized that it didn’t need the therapy anymore.

Kuroo was told that people would view him differently, that society was a double-edged sword. That people may accept his decision, but disagree on why he chose it in the first place. Pretty hypocritical, but the world was run by hypocrites. It was something that everyone eventually learned, and Kuroo learned enough for his fair-share. When the doctors left so that he could relax, Kuroo slowly eased out of bed and shuffled along the cold, tiled floor.

There was one mirror in his hospital room. When Kuroo looked into it, he saw himself. He looked exactly the same as before, but there were some added scars that his hospital gown hid. Nothing hid his neck, so Kuroo touched where his scent-glands used to be. It felt strange not having the squishy bumps there, but Kuroo vaguely remembered something. He remembered that the surgeons asked him if he wanted his scent-glands removed or not.

Kuroo said,  _ “Yes.” _

So when Kuroo climbed back into bed for an afternoon nap, he reviewed his medical record one last time before setting it aside.

His name was Kuroo Tetsurou. He was twenty-seven, a first year residency-student for the Hasetsu Clinic. He enjoyed hugs and laughter, had a soft-spot for children because they were the greatest treasures of society.

Kuroo Tetsurou was previously identified as an Alpha.

Now, he can live his life as the person he was meant to be.

**Author's Note:**

> I liked how the writing-style "grew up" as Kenma and Kuroo grew up.


End file.
